<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Take a Seat, Please by HarmoniHalo</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290263">Take a Seat, Please</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniHalo/pseuds/HarmoniHalo'>HarmoniHalo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Autism, Catharsis, Childhood Trauma, Crowley Has ADHD (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Developing Friendships, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:54:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmoniHalo/pseuds/HarmoniHalo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><br/>"What brings you to my office, Crowley?" The man asked in a way too chipper, saccharine tone. "You still haven't answered that question but if it is a bit of a hard one to answer, we don't have to start there." </i>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <i>"One of my friends recommended you. She said that you may be able to help me with my very particular problems." Crowley drawled on, noticing a tube on the side table filled with liquid and glitter. He decided to start playing with it, watching the colors shift from blue to green with the turn of it in his hands. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Do you trust her judgement so far?" Dr. Fell asked, readying his pen on his notebook. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Time will tell." Crowley responded, not looking away from the glitter tube that had captured his attention. </i>
</p><p>
  <i></i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Human AUs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Session 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please mind the tags and understand that this fic is very cathartic for me and yes, I am using a gay fictional demon to cope. Sue me.<br/>Also baby's first human AU wwooooo</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You must be Anthony. Take a seat, please."</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell opened his arm in a welcoming gesture, smiling as he couldn't be happier to be treating his new patient that hobbled through the door and collapsed against the nearby sofa. </p><p> </p><p>The same patient sputtered his lips in annoyance like a petulant child, moving his legs to hang over the arm rest of the couch, as if he had never sat on one before or just didn't give a toss about etiquette. His eyes peered over the top of his shades, watching the doctor like a hawk while he demurely made his way over to the chair that sat nearby the sofa. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell reached over to the nearby table, grabbing his mug, an iridescent cup with what looked to be angel wings on the handle. He calmly took a sip before gingerly placing it back from where it came from. </p><p> </p><p>"So," The doctor piped up, being sure to retrieve a notebook and pen from the bag beside his chair. "What brings you in here to see me, Anthony?" </p><p> </p><p>"I'm not taking any pills." Anthony barked, "And call me Crowley...please." </p><p> </p><p>The doctor blinked before writing something down in his notebook. Crowley grit his teeth at the sight, not at all trusting the man before him. Especially if it meant he was hiding something. He could already feel the doctor judging him and watching his every move. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't intend on prescribing anything right out the gate, Crowley. But I must ask, why the aversion to medication?" Dr. Fell asked, still speaking in a tooth rotting sweet tone that made Crowley feel nauseous. </p><p> </p><p>"Hasn't worked. Never works." Crowley snapped, "Always made me feel spacey. Like I wasn't even here, kinda floaty. Just wasn't ple--what the fuck are you writing?" </p><p> </p><p>The doctor paused, looking up at his patient who was staring him down with pursed lips. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm writing down your answers so I can look back on them at later appointments." He responded calmly. "You can look at them if you'd like, but I promise it won't benefit you to know what's in this notebook. Also, on the topic of medication. I believe that most patients can be treated without prescription drugs, so if that is what you prefer we'll do our best to provide the tools without pills."</p><p> </p><p>With that, Dr. Fell reached over to hand the unruly patient the notebook, but Crowley refused it. He wasn't a fan of the self satisfied smug look the therapist gave at the refusal but decided not to comment on it. </p><p> </p><p>"What brings you to my office, Crowley?" The man asked in a way too chipper, saccharine tone. "You still haven't answered that question but if it is a bit of a hard one to answer, we don't have to start there." </p><p> </p><p>"One of my friends recommended you. She said that you may be able to help me with my very particular problems." Crowley drawled on, noticing a tube on the side table filled with liquid and glitter. He decided to start playing with it, watching the colors shift from blue to green with the turn of it in his hands. </p><p> </p><p>"Do you trust her judgement so far?" Dr. Fell asked, readying his pen on his notebook. </p><p> </p><p>"Time will tell." Crowley responded, not looking away from the glitter tube that had captured his attention. </p><p> </p><p>"Can you tell me this particular set of problems she felt I could help you with?" The doctor probed, sounding hopeful.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley paused and raised an eyebrow, "Won't be that easy to get something out of me." He sneered, thinking he was fighting a battle of wits against his therapist. </p><p> </p><p>"I see." Dr. Fell pursed his lips, placing his hands together. "Crowley, you do understand that you are paying me and that no one is forcing you to stay here. When you purposely withhold information, you're only hurting yourself. I understand if the information is painful, but you are being more childish than my other clients. Who as you are very aware, are children." </p><p> </p><p>Crowley felt a knot in his gut. He wasn't expecting something so abrasive to come from the living sunshine of a man's mouth. But it didn't offend him. If anything, he welcomed it. He needed someone take charge who wouldn't put up with his shit, not someone who would nod absentmindedly and ask how often he took walks outside his house. Or if he had found a job (he hadn't). </p><p> </p><p>Or even worse, prescribe him with a fuck ton of meds every time he said something. </p><p> </p><p>"I think I'm depressed."</p><p>Cunt gave him Zoloft. </p><p>"My anxiety is really getting to me."</p><p>Bitch gave him Paxil.</p><p>"This isn't working..."</p><p>Dick licker gave him Paxil CR. </p><p>"I have trouble falling asleep at night, maybe because of my anxiety, I'm not su--"</p><p>Cock sucker gave him Remberon, a sleep aid. </p><p> </p><p>At one point, he was on so many medications he felt like a zombie. But without them, he felt  incredibly hyperactive and somehow exhausted at the same time. One cannot live like this.</p><p> </p><p>So he tried it. Tried to stop living. </p><p>But he really only severed the few relationships he had left in the process. </p><p> </p><p>"Alright. I tried to kill myself." Crowley stated, not a bit of waver to his tone, like he was stating a fact. </p><p> </p><p>Of course, the fucker was all too keen to write that down. </p><p> </p><p>"Can I ask why?" Dr. Fell queried. Crowley was surprised he didn't try to throw some form of a pity party. It was a welcome change, if he was honest.</p><p> </p><p>"Didn't feel like living anymore. Didn't like myself. Felt like a failure. I was tired. Tired of losing jobs. Tired of losing people. Tired of disappointing people. Tired of the run around I was getting from therapists and psychiatrists. And all the ways I tried to self medicate it was just---" Crowley paused and glanced back at Dr. Fell who was writing something down then looked up at him, expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>He had said too much. </p><p> </p><p>"You don't have to tell me anything else right now if you're uncomfortable." The doctor reassured him, "But thank you for saying something." </p><p> </p><p>Then he smiled. A genuine, kind smile. And his eyes practically sparkled. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn't want to admit for one fleeting moment that he felt safe and listened to. Like his problems actually had a possibility of being taken seriously and maybe even solved. </p><p>He tried to push all those thoughts away, not wanting to have any kind of false hope. </p><p> </p><p>While Crowley's thoughts were running over themselves, he noticed Dr. Fell taking another sip from his mug. </p><p> </p><p>"Whatcha drinking?" He asked, continuing to flip the tube around in his hands. It was oddly calming. </p><p> </p><p>"Cocoa. White chocolate." The doctor stumbled over his words slightly. "Um, white chocolate cocoa." </p><p> </p><p>"Sounds nice."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, it is!" Dr. Fell beamed. "I actually order them from a young lady on the interwebs who makes her own mixes. And she places them in these wee little keepsake boxes. I love ordering from her, I really do. I also have the cutest kettle to boil the water in, it's on the table outside I could--" He paused, a look of worry ghosting over his face before he cleared his throat and brought up his notebook again. </p><p> </p><p>"My apologies. We were talking about you?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley was taken aback by the doctor's small outburst but not offended by it. If anything, he found it kind of amusing that they were here to talk about themselves and Dr. Fell felt it necessary to info-dump about cocoa. He smirked slightly despite himself. </p><p> </p><p>And was too busy rolling the glitter tube in his hands to notice Dr. Fell writing it down. </p><p> </p><p>"Tell me more about the cocoa collection, doctor." Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. </p><p> </p><p>"Ah," Dr. Fell glanced to the side, panic evident in his eyes. He <i> wanted </i> to discuss it, Crowley could tell he was bursting to do so. But as a professional, he couldn't. </p><p>"I have quite a collection and I could divulge on it in the future. But for now, we should really talk about you." The blonde man sat up in his chair and brandished his pen.</p><p> </p><p>"So! Let's discuss more happier pursuits. What do you like doing in your spare time, Crowley?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley pondered for a moment, deciding whether he should answer truthfully or pull out something self deprecating like, 'Well, I decide whether or not to keep living.' But that would be stupid at this point, and he did have some form of a hobby. Kind of. </p><p> </p><p>"I'm a writer." He spoke calmly. "I also dabble in horticulture. I have a cat named Lilith and cream ball python named Hanael." </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded attentively while taking notes. "Writing must be a very rewarding hobby, do you plan on pursuing it beyond that?" He asked brightly, but Crowley sunk in on himself. </p><p> </p><p>"My writing isn't really meant to be published. It's more personal and if I'm honest, kinda embarrassing."</p><p> </p><p>"May I ask why?" The doctor held his pen up a bit too expectantly for Crowley's taste, but it didn't deter him. If anything, he wanted to see how the stuffy man would react to <i> this. </i></p><p> </p><p>"My work is more explicit in nature," Crowley drawled, flipping the tube of glitter in his hand as he spoke with an air of confidence in his voice. He couldn't help but smirk as he uttered, "Some would even call it smut. Or erotica."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Lo and behold, Dr. Fell dropped his pen at that and looked a tiny bit flustered. Well, he was child psychologist after all. Crowley could hazard a guess that most of his clients didn't divulge into that kind of thing. </p><p> </p><p>"I like to write elaborate stories, mind you, but they all end the same way. With an assortment of ways to fuck. Or be fucked."</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell didn't need to know the reason why Crowley wrote these stories quite yet, or ever hopefully. At this moment, he was just enjoying the idea of flustering the poor man.</p><p> </p><p>After picking his jaw up off the floor, the doctor brandished his pen yet again and wrote a few more notes down. After clearing his throat and most likely willing his cheeks to rid themselves of their red color, he continued. </p><p> </p><p>"Is that something you enjoy? Even if you don't feel the need to publish them?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley nodded, which wasn't a lie. There was something freeing and cathartic about separating himself from his fantasies and desires and transfusing them into fictional characters. Some were nameless, maybe even genderless. He felt no guilt doing so, unlike other ventures of his past, which he'd probably have to divulge to Dr. Fell in the future. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn't looking forward to reopening those wounds.</p><p> </p><p>"Then I would believe that's a fine hobby." The doctor's voice cut through Crowley's thoughts. "If you find it rewarding, then I say there's no problem pursuing it. In fact-"</p><p>He reached over for his cup of cocoa. </p><p>"I'd like to read some of your work. I'm sure you're very talented." </p><p> </p><p>Now Crowley was caught off guard. Wasn't this man flustered from head to toe over the word "fucking" just a moment ago? </p><p> </p><p>"Ah, maybe not that." He backpedaled, nearly dropping the glitter tube from his hands. "Those are very personal to me. I rarely share them." As those words passed his lips, he recalled the few times he shared his works with others, mostly partners. They fed into his fantasies, attached to him like leeches but slithered away before he could recoup after the feeding. Leaving him a withered husk of his former self...whatever that was. </p><p> </p><p>"Crowley, what are you thinking about?" </p><p> </p><p>The doctor's gentle tone felt like a machete as it cut through the foliage of Crowley's entangled mind. He wondered for a moment how Dr. Fell knew he was lost in troubled, intrusive thoughts until he felt his eyes stinging and warm saline drip down his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>
  <i> Goddammit... </i>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley shook his head and wiped the tears away, like he was accustomed to do. "Nah, it's no-nothing." He sniffled. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded solemnly, "Alright then." In response, Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. He half expected the man to pry, but he backed away and besides writing the incident down on that god forsaken notepad, he seemingly ignored it. </p><p> </p><p>"Actually, I could share some of my work." Crowley piped up, rubbing his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell's eyes went wide and his face shifted bright crimson. "Ah, you would--?? Honestly, Crowley if it's too personal we could--"</p><p> </p><p>"No, no. Not that work. I also take pictures. I'm no professional but I like taking polaroids of my pets and plants. Sometimes I go to the park and take pictures of birds and plants there." Crowley reassured him. Dr. Fell wasn't as eager to read his <i> other </i> works as he seemed originally. His response was kind of adorable. </p><p> </p><p>"Polaroids sound nice." The doctor almost squeaked, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. "I would be glad to take a look at them. I'm not a photographer either so I can't give you a professional opinion, but I could provide some encouraging words. And-" He straightened himself in his chair, "I would love to give you an outlet to indulge in your hobby." </p><p> </p><p>Crowley couldn't help but smile gently. Encouragement sounded nice. Indulging sounded nice too. Though he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, on the top shelf of a nearby bookcase that stood beside the doctor's chair. </p><p> </p><p>"If you're no photographer, what's up with that vintage accordion camera up there?" </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell glanced up in the direction Crowley was pointing and chuckled softly. "Ah, that's just an antique. I've never used it. Wouldn't know how to, if I'm honest. If you do, however, maybe we could spend a session toying around with it." </p><p> </p><p>Crowley nodded, eagerly. "I wouldn't mind that. It's a date." He smirked and Dr. Fell laughed. </p><p> </p><p>"Alright then!" He cajoled, "So I'll be seeing you for another session?"</p><p> </p><p>With those words, Crowley froze. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. Instead of responding right away, he flipped the glitter tube around in his hands in a nearly frantic manner, his breath quickening and his pulse jumping to an almost painful rate.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor picked up on his distress almost instantly. "Crowley, I'm not going to force you to come in. I believe you could very well benefit from treatment, but only if <i> you want it. </i> This is a huge step, I know. Trusting me and trusting the process. I won't prescribe you with medication unless you ask. I won't demand you to schedule an appointment every week. All I ask is that you think over what you want." He sighed softly, leaning up and off his chair. </p><p> </p><p>"And please, never hesitate to call me. Even if you can't come in. You don't have to live the way you are and feel the way you feel. I am holding out the rope, all you have to do is grab ahold." </p><p> </p><p>Suddenly that was a loud dong as the nearby grandfather clock signaled that it was 3 pm...and the end of the session.</p><p> </p><p>Crowley's knees nearly gave out on him as he lifted himself off the sofa and out the door, not even looking in Dr. Fell's direction. The walls around him were closing in, he felt faint, he felt sweat dripping under his shirt. And he noticed he was still holding the glitter tube. </p><p> </p><p>He went to return it to the side table, when Dr. Fell spoke up. </p><p> </p><p>"You can keep that. I have plenty of them. Maybe use it when you start feeling anxious." </p><p> </p><p>He smiled.</p><p> </p><p>And Crowley felt his breath steady itself again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Session 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Crowley talks about his week and an encounter he had with a past lover.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley was surprised to see someone emerge from Dr. Fell's room before his scheduled appointment. A small child who was holding onto their mother's hand looked back at him. They smiled up at him gently and despite his better judgement, Crowley smiled back. </p><p> </p><p>The child continued down the hall to the receptionist desk, chattering excitedly about the "cool guy with the neat sunglasses". Hmm. Crowley never really considered himself 'cool'.</p><p> </p><p>"Crowley?" Dr. Fell's voice brought him out of his head for the moment. He was taken aback by how the doctor remembered what he preferred to be called, especially considering his past appointments with other counselors. </p><p> </p><p>"It's good to see you again." The doctor beamed and Crowley felt a bit lighter as he walked into the office. He genuinely believed that Dr. Fell was happy to see him. </p><p> </p><p>"Sure..." Crowley blurted out before he could stop himself as he flopped onto the sofa. In the corner of his eye he noticed that the doctor had added a few more toys onto the side table since his last visit. But he opted to pull out the tube of glitter that he still carried with him. He rolled it back and forth in his hands while Dr. Fell spoke up again.</p><p> </p><p>"How are you today, Crowley?" He asked in a chipper tone, tapping his pen against his note pad. </p><p> </p><p>"Nothing much to complain about." He responded. That wasn't a lie. The day wasn't good or bad. It was just a day. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded, "That's good. Nothing to complain about means nothing bad. Which I would say, is good." </p><p> </p><p>"Hmm." Crowley gave a half hearted agreement. Nothing bad...but...</p><p> </p><p>"Is there something wrong, Crowley? Anything you'd like to discuss with me?"</p><p> </p><p>"It's, uh..." He paused, thoughts running over themselves in his mind. Nothing coherent or tangible, just a mess of white noise and static, like usual. Crowley was feeling things he could never give a name to, he just knew them to be bad. It was a bad feeling.  But he had to say something. Dr. Fell wouldn't believe him if he said nothing was wrong. </p><p> </p><p>"What are you thinking about, Crowley?" </p><p> </p><p>The thought became vivid, and solidified. He could hear someone's voice and then...</p><p> </p><p>"I saw an ex this week." </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded understandably. "That would shake anyone to the core. Can I ask what happened?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley didn't want to dig into the wretched details. What do you usually do with an ex who calls you up later in the evening and just "wants to be your friend"? The same ex who led you on with promises of a secure future and a happy life only to pull the rug out from under you with a half hearted confession that they "never really loved you". </p><p> </p><p>"But we can still be friends, Anthony. I need friends more than a relationship, honestly."</p><p> </p><p>While Crowley was going down a thought spiral, Dr. Fell began to question his state of mind.</p><p> </p><p>"Was it a good meeting? Or a bad one?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley cringed. For him, bad. For them, probably alright. They got what they wanted out of him and left. "Bad." He croaked.</p><p> </p><p>"Alright. Why was it bad, if you don't mind me asking?"</p><p> </p><p>Crowley began to flip the glitter tube between his fingers frantically. His every breath quickened. He could feel his eyes widen and became uncomfortably aware of the texture of the sofa beneath him, the temperature of the air, and tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving a stinging, burning sensation in their wake. And above all else, he was shaking. </p><p> </p><p>The memory of earlier this week reared it's ugly head. The pretty face of his past lover, giving him that smile that made his walls break down if only for that moment. Making Crowley believe for just a millisecond that he could be loved and wanted. The day together, dinner, drinks, talking like old friends. Recalling it all, it felt light. There was no pressure.</p><p> </p><p>They returned to his flat, still nothing untoward going on. Lilith meowed at the guest and they pet her while cooing over how adorable she is, whilst Crowley went to the kitchenette to grab some glasses. </p><p> </p><p>They called him over to the sofa. </p><p>They kissed him. He kissed them. </p><p>And--</p><p> </p><p>"We slept together." Crowley spoke up. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded. "Alright. Is this something you wanted?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley wrapped his arms around himself. Wanted? He didn't tell them no at any point and he initiated the whole thing. They just wanted a kiss, but he had to push back harder. They just wanted company, but he had to let his hands wander. He knew what they wanted out of him, so he gave it. And they seemed satisfied. That's all that mattered, that they were satisfied. </p><p>But--</p><p> </p><p>"No." Crowley croaked. "But it's all I can give."</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm." Dr. Fell grabbed his pen and wrote down Crowley's response. "Can I ask what you mean by that?" That it's all you can give?"</p><p> </p><p>"Sex is easy." Crowley blurted without thinking, his body shaking. "I don't have to think about it. I just do it. In a sick way," He smiled sadly, laughing under his breath. "It's how I show someone I care." </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell nodded as he wrote that down, something that usually infuriated Crowley but he was too shaken to care. And before he could speak again, Crowley continued. </p><p> </p><p>"Would it be too much to say that I'm not even attracted to them?" </p><p> </p><p>There was a gentle click as the doctor placed his pen down and rustling as he pulled himself up in his seat. "Explain that to me."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley glanced up from the floor, his eyes meeting Dr. Fell's for just a moment. Until a burning, sickening feeling shot through his system and he had to look away. "I...I don't know how to explain it." Crowley meekly stated. </p><p> </p><p>"It's alright." The doctor assured him. "Just tell me what you were thinking when you said that to me. Doesn't have to be coherent. Just a vague idea of what that means to you." </p><p> </p><p>Crowley nodded, a visible shudder causing his body to convulse for a split second. </p><p> </p><p>"Ya know the thing inside you, inside your head?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley was talking out of his ass and he knew he sounded fucking incompetent.</p><p> </p><p>"The thing that like, lights up, kinda? And makes you feel all aroused?...okay maybe not aroused."</p><p> </p><p>For God's sake, he's a WRITER. He should be so much better at explaining this shit!</p><p> </p><p>"Look," Crowley clapped his hands a bit as if he was catching the words like they were flies buzzing in front of his face. "There's a thing inside your head that gets all agitated when you see someone who you'd like to fuck. And that you find attractive in that way."</p><p> </p><p>Realization finally dawned over Dr. Fell's befuddled expression. "Sexual attraction?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah!" Crowley snapped his fingers. "Like that. I don't think I've ever felt that! I mean, when I'm with someone it feels good, like it's supposed to but I'm not attracted to them. Does that make sense?" </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell beamed, as his client had just unknowingly opened up the opportunity for him to divulge in a whole other kind of expertise. </p><p> </p><p>"Well that's because sexual attraction and orgasms are controlled by two completely different things." The man chirped. "Sexual attraction takes place entirely in the head. While orgasms are a bodily response. When the erogenous zones are agitated, that's what causes an orgasm. Sexual attraction doesn't necessarily need to be present for the body to react that way, sexual attraction is just our minds telling us who we'd like to sleep with. So that..."</p><p> </p><p>The doctor trailed off, catching himself before he started down a path of info-dumping again. </p><p> </p><p>"That makes sense." Crowley muttered, not sounding at all convinced. In his mind he was still broken beyond repair and not at all normal. Most people didn't break down into tears after amazing sex. </p><p> </p><p><i> Okay.</i> He smirked to himself. <i> Subpar, at best. </i> </p><p> </p><p>But still.</p><p> </p><p>"So it would make sense that you enjoy the act but feel nothing towards the person." Dr. Fell concluded. "Although, would you want to feel something towards the person? Hypothetically."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah." Crowley answered solemnly. "Don't let the fact that I reek of sex fool you, casual stuff isn't my thing." He sneered sarcastically, hoping to earn a chuckle out of the doctor for his joke but Dr. Fell just stared back at him for a moment before writing down the response. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley slunk down against the sofa, defeated, before grabbing his glitter tube off the leather exterior. He turned it upside down, watching the red and gold flakes and glass beads trail down the water. It was calming. Something to focus on when his mind went from a typical battleground to no mans land. </p><p> </p><p>Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Fell spoke up again. </p><p> </p><p>"It's safe to say, though I don't want to assume, you're using sex as a way to cope. But also as a way to self harm. Considering that it helps and hinders at the same time, am I right?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley nods, but doesn't look in the doctor's direction </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Well that's a start." The doctor smiles softly, and Crowley catches it out of the corner of his eye. </p><p> </p><p>The older gentleman already looked handsome and soft but when he smiled, at least from Crowley's point of view, he glowed and his god forsaken eyes twinkled. </p><p> </p><p>Of course he would work with children. Give the man a beard and he could easily play Father Christmas with how much radiance he held in just his smile.</p><p> </p><p>"...the first step to fixing the problem." </p><p> </p><p>Apparently Dr. Fell was talking the whole entire time Crowley was staring at his expression. And he had blipped out. Luckily with the process of elimination he could easily determine what the doctor had said.</p><p>It was the typical,</p><p>"Realizing you have a problem is the first step to fixing the problem." </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Mmmhmm." Crowley mumbled, feigning understanding, but Dr. Fell apparently bought it.</p><p> </p><p>"I know it sounds cliche Crowley, but just because we say something over and over doesn't make it anymore valid." He kept smiling all the while as he spoke. Crowley didn't mind. </p><p> </p><p>"I feel like you've made a good amount of progress with just two sessions. I am very, very proud of you, Crowley."</p><p> </p><p>Crowley yet again had that feeling from the last session. That reassurance that everything would be alright, and that he was being listened to. He let it linger just a little bit longer, even if he felt he didn't deserve it. </p><p> </p><p>"Which is why, I feel you're ready for some homework!" The doctor chirped, making the word "homework" sound incredibly fun and entertaining.</p><p> </p><p>Yep, definitely a child psychologist. </p><p> </p><p>"Is it maths...?" Crowley asked with a sneer. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Oh no, nothing like that. Mental homework. I want you to write a list of what you consider to be "healthy" coping mechanisms and "unhealthy" coping mechanisms. Don't look any up or anything, just pull from your own mind. Next session we will go down the list and talk about what you wrote down. Not only will it give you sometime to think through how you've been handling your emotions, it will give us a good jumping off point in the session. And,"</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell straightened himself up in his chair, pointing a finger scoldingly at Crowley, "And this is a big 'and', don't lie to yourself. Sometimes coping mechanisms and are not black and white. Maybe it's healthy in doses but not in bulk. Maybe it's only healthy if done in the right mind but not when you're unbelievably stressed. Write what you think, not what you want me to see. Alright? Promise me." </p><p> </p><p>The man leaned forward, holding out a pinkie. Before realizing what he did and his expression dropped. "Right, um, I'll just--"</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly Crowley leaned forward and laced his pinkie with the doctor's. </p><p> </p><p>"Promise." He didn't even mean to say it with that much conviction, he just never wanted to see this living sunshine of a man's expression look so crestfallen ever again. </p><p> </p><p>Crowley was rewarded with a sputter, then a laugh. And all those warm and comforting feelings flooded back into him, like he flipped the glitter tube and all the colors danced in the light as they glided down the water. </p><p> </p><p>And as the colors sank to the bottom, the grandfather clock chimed, telling him the session was over. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Fell's rancorous laughter turned to an adorable chuckle when he reached for his notepad to write down a few more things. </p><p> </p><p>"Ahem, so I'll be seeing you, with list in tow, in the next two weeks, correct?" </p><p> </p><p>Crowley nodded. "Sounds good. And if I don't make the list?"</p><p> </p><p>The doctor pouted, "Then you went and had the audacity to go back on a pinky promise and I will never forgive you." He stared back at Crowley sternly for a moment before his reserve faltered and he fell back into a fit of giggles. </p><p> </p><p>"There's no pressure. But if you do anything," He tore a piece of paper away from his notebook and wrote something down on it in perfect cursive. </p><p> </p><p>"Look this up when you get back to yours. It will answer so many of your questions. Trust me." </p><p> </p><p>Crowley took the paper with a shaky hand and placed it in his pocket as he walked out of the office, feeling lighter than he did when he first walked in. </p><p> </p><p>Upon returning to his car, he pulled the paper from his jacket and unfolded it. One word was written there. </p><p> </p><p>"Demisexuality."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for being so patient. <br/>I still don't have an update schedule yet and I apologize for it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>